The Small Things

I see people caught in a moment,
while life hurries faster than thought,
and choices, both hidden and obvious,
arrive before they are sought.

Each one carries something to notice,
though it may not be noticed a lot.
For some truths wait quietly beside us
until all of the rushing has stopped.

I notice the way we meet others
in the passing and plain light of day.
Some carry old hatreds between them.
Some smile at a stranger their way.

And often the difference is little,
hardly an effort at all.
A smile, a hug, a few words spoken kindly
may catch someone before they fall.

It is strange how the smallest of gestures,
which cost us so little to give,
can brighten the whole of a morning
and make it feel better to live.

Some gather far more than they need
and call their great hunger a creed.
But enough is a difficult thing to find
when emptiness is what they feed.

Their importance is smaller than they think.
Still, they wait for the praise they are due,
while the rest of us remember
when one thing could belong to two.

The ones who shape our lives,
and all that is yet to be,
are rarely those who tower
where everyone can see.

They move among us quietly,
with little claim at all:
a door held, a name remembered,
a hand on the shoulder before the fall.

They may never know what they changed,
or how far one kindness will go.
Perhaps that is why it matters.
Perhaps we are not meant to know.

—Bryan Brouwer